people had their abodes--as
straight as possible toward the big house. Nobody interfered with him;
not even his two defenders noticed that he had gone; they both remained
standing silent, with hearts beating anxiously.

"Okoya," the woman called from below, "come and eat. Mitsha, come down
and give sa uishe something to eat."

A thrill went through Okoya's whole frame. She had called him _sa
uishe_,--"my child." He ventured to cast a furtive glance at the maiden.
Mitsha had recovered her self-control; she returned his shy glance with
an open, free, but sweet look, and said,--

"Come and partake of the food." There was no resisting an invitation
from her. He smiled; she returned the smile in a timid way, as shy and
embarrassed as his own.

She descended first and Okoya followed. On the floor of the room, the
same chamber where Tyope had taken rest the night before, stood the
usual meal; and Okoya partook of it modestly, said his prayer of thanks,
and uttered a plain, sincere hoya at the end. But instead of rising, as
he would have done at home, he remained squatting, glancing at the two
women.

While he ate, the mother watched him eagerly; her cunning eyes moved
from his face toward that of her daughter like sparks; and gradually an
expression of satisfaction mingled with that of a settled resolve
appeared on her features. There was no doubt that the two would be a
handsome pair. They seemed, as the vulgar saying goes, made for each
other; and there was something besides that told that they were fond of
each other also. Okoya had never before entered this dwelling; but the
woman thought that they had met before, nay, that her desire had been
anticipated, inasmuch as the young people already stood to each other,
if not in an intimate, in a more than merely friendly, relation.

"Why do you never come to see us?" asked the woman, after Okoya had
finished his meal.

"I stay at the estufa during the night," was the modest reply.

"You need have no fear," she answered pleasantly, "Tyope and your father
are good friends. You should become a Koshare!" she exclaimed.

Okoya's face clouded; he did not like the suggestion, but nevertheless
asked,--

"Is she," looking at Mitsha, "a Koshare also?"

"No. We had another child, a boy. He was to have become a Delight Maker,
but he died some time ago." The woman had it on her lips to say, "Do you
become one in his place as our child," but she checked herself in time;
it woul